Freindship
by TillySnape
Summary: NB: The title is an intentionally misspelled nod to Austen's "Love and Freindship"(sic). *SEQUEL ADDED* The gossips of the Ton often wondered how on earth Charles Bingley, Cit, became the particular friend of haughty Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to half of Derbyshire and grandson to the Earl of —. The answer is somewhat undignified, and the debt not at all on the side expected.
1. Freindship

**Freindship**

**~ or ~ **

**How Bingley Rescued Darcy from a Very Embarrassing Situation Indeed, and Earnt His Undying Gratitude**.

xXx

_This is a weird plot bunny, I warn you now._

_It came about after I watched one of the documentaries about the making of the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. Crispin Bonham-Carter mentions that he was apparently very nervous prior to first read through and took himself off to the toilet, where he heard someone in the adjoining stall, also being "very nervous". It was Colin Firth and this was the first time they met each other. Not quite the image you want of leading men, but I did think it would make for quite an amusing beginning for Darcy and Bingley._

_Not knowing what exactly what the public toilet situation was in the 1800s, I did a little research. It turns out that loos are a very interesting, if random, historical topic. There was literally no such thing as public lavatories in the UK prior to the Great Exhibition in 1851 (except when the Romans were here). Even then it took decades of campaigning, well into the following century, to install public facilities for the use of women in particular._

_Anyway, after all that, the result is this... (sorry)_

xXx

Darcy was going to kill Wickham, just as soon as these blasted cramps subsided. He was sure that whoreson had poisoned him.

He was eating at the home of Professor Beck, who he very much wished to convince to teach him Philosophy. Darcy's father was admirer of Kant, under whom Beck had studied, and had specifically recommended the master to his son. He has always found it difficult to speak with his father on anything other that estate business. Both men were naturally guarded, and the elder Mr Darcy was easier with Wickham's charm than his own son's reserve. A fact Wickham knew, and exploited mercilessly. Thus, securing a place to study under Professor Beck was a deeply held ambition of Darcy's since he had come up to Cambridge.

Unfortunately, Darcy had, as was his habit, managed to accidentally offend the Professor one night at The Eagle, and as a result the Professor was refusing to take him on as a student. His cousin, Viscount _, had somehow contrived an invitation to dinner for him, but the Professor had no particular interest in connections or money. Darcy had struggled all evening to plead his case. Now it was hopeless. He was stuck in the Professor's parlour in agony, not to mention in some danger of embarrassing himself completely. This would be an uncomfortable predicament for anyone, but for Darcy (who could not bear to be laughed at) it was anathema. Thankfully he was alone.

Then an impossibly happy puppy bounded into the room, blonde curls bouncing. "Hello old chap, are you quite all right?"

Darcy tried to give him the Fitzwilliam glare (being aristocratic, it was much more effective than the mere gentlemanly, though ancient, Darcy glare). His stomach gave a worrying lurch. He settled for asking, "And you are?"

"Charles Bingley, of Scarbourgh and London, at your service."

Wonderful. A Cit.

"And you are Fitzwilliam Darcy. My sister has told me all about you."

Even better. A Cit with a social climbing sister. His aunt, Lady Catherine, had specifically warned him about those.

"I saw you hobble in here and thought to offer my assistance."

Darcy could have happily thrashed the blasted fellow, if only he felt less wretched.

"Truly, Sir, you look very ill. You must allow me to be of service to you."

Darcy was becoming paler by the moment. He was almost afraid to speak, lest it lead to him casting up his accounts.

"Need... water closet" he managed to whisper.

"Not to worry old chap, we all get caught short from time to time."

Darcy looked at him expectantly.

"The thing is, I'm not sure Beck has a water closet. I think you'll have to go out to the privy."

Sweat was beginning to roll down Darcy's forehead, and his fashionably tight clothes were strangling him.

"Can't make it." He ground out.

"Dear Sir, you must. You cannot do it here!"

Darcy was beyond caring about the man's provenance, and even about his irritating cheeriness. He had greater troubles.

"Help?" He squeaked, before collapsing on his knees, grasping at his stomach, which was now making some alarming sounds.

"I'll find a chamber pot!"

Bingley ran off. Darcy didn't know how long the man was gone but it felt like an age. He concentrated on his breathing, willing himself not to do, well, anything, until Mr Bingley returned. At long last, Bingley did return, and with a chamber pot in his hands. Darcy could have kissed him! He offered thanks to the Lord.

Then he retched.

Just in time, Mr Bingley thrust the chamber pot under Darcy's mouth and caught the outcome.

"Is that it, old chap?" asked Bingley.

Darcy moaned. A wave of pain hit his body, centring on his abdomen. "Other end." He was practically sobbing. All his pride was abandoned.

Bingley helped him up and onto the pot. "I'll just make sure no one comes in here." he commented, leaving the room and allowing Darcy to retain what little dignity he had left.

Some minutes later, he popped his head around the door and asked if Darcy was finished. Darcy said he thought he was for now, though he still felt like death. Mr Bingley, bless him, had arranged for a maid and a footman to give assistance, and called his carriage.

"Come man, you would be much better in your rooms. I will see you back to your college. I have already given Professor Beck your apologies, and the maid will clean up in here."

Darcy mumbled something about offence.

"Oh, do not concern yourself on that score, the Professor has some affection for my father, and thus for me. He would not dare to be offended by a friend of mine."

Between Bingley and the doorman, Darcy was brought to Bingley's carriage.

"What luck," Bingley told him, "that my father is visiting so that I have the use of it!"

The carriage brought them right to the porters' lodge, and Mr Bingley hopped out to get aid. Darcy concentrated on staying upright on his seat, until Bingley returned with his valet. Together, they helped him across the quad, up the stairs, and into bed. There Mr Bingley left them, promising to return.

Darcy did not remember much of the following days, but pain and sleep took up much of them. Finally, he recovered.

Wickham had been by, full of laughter, to inquire about his important engagement. Darcy did not know what he had been given, but felt this was proof enough of Wickham's guilt. Already sick of the vicious propensities Wickham had exhibited at Cambridge, this was the last straw for Darcy. He vowed that man would never have the living at Kympton if he could help it. For such a man to be a vicar was disgusting enough, but for Darcy to have to support him and listen to him preach each week would be insupportable.

He was sitting in his banyan, glad to be out of bed, when his valet came to ask if he was willing to admit a Mr Charles Bingley to his rooms. Darcy acquiesced. Bingley had been of great an assistance as Wickham had been a hindrance. He deserved Darcy's gratitude, though of course they could not continue the acquaintance. They had not even been introduced.

Bingley bounded in, much as he had the other night, and before Darcy could say a word, exclaimed, "Do you still want to study under Professor Beck? He has said he will take you!"

Darcy spluttered in disbelief. "He will? How?!"

"I asked him."

"You asked him?"

"Yes. He was happy to take on one of my friends."

"Your friends?"

"I know we have only just met, but I have found you cannot help a fellow when he is sick without calling him a friend afterwards."

Nor accept it, Darcy supposed. He was still somewhat unsure of Bingley (and of Bingley's motives), but his influence with Professor Beck was too tempting to dismiss.

"I mean, Sir, that the Professor was not keen to teach me previously."

"That is all forgot."

"And the mess I made in his house?"

"I do not think he knew. I paid the maid for her discretion. But if he did know, that is forgot too."

"Mr Bingley, I am in your debt."

"Not at all. What are friends for?"

Darcy had not thought about this aspect of friendship before. In his experience, friends had been for him to assist, not the other way around. Friendship with Mr Bingley might prove to be quite refreshing.

Darcy very much enjoyed his tutorials with Professor Beck, but nothing gave him greater pleasure than sharing his learning with his father. As fate would have it, these conversations about philosophy were some of the last the two Darcy men ever had. Within months of his meeting Bingley, Darcy's father had an aneurysm and Darcy became the new Master of Pemberley, and guardian of his sister Georgiana. With this further knowledge of how significant Bingley's interference had been, Darcy's debt grew in his mind. When Bingley's own father passed away shortly afterwards, their friendship was strengthened by shared grief.

Though their beginning had not been auspicious, Darcy knew there was nothing he would not do to assist his greatest friend. He vowed to one day provide Bingley with as valuable an interference as he had provided Darcy. This vow Miss Bingley took advantage of some years later, to the detriment of Jane Bennet.

xXx

_I also have an MA story I posted on AO3, also under TillySnape, which doesn't meet the guidelines here. If you're interested head over there to read._

_Getting back to MMM now! _


	2. Questions and Commands

**Questions ****and Commands**

**~ or ~  
**

**How Bingley Tried to Rescue Wickham, and Why His Wife Would Not Let Him.**

xXx

_Great to get so much positive feedback. My husband thought the story was gross, lol. A few people asked for a sequel and I think reviews deserve a reward, so here you go... enjoy!_

xXx

**Longbourn, Hertfordshire**  
**December 1813**

"Lydia!" gasped Elizabeth, looking worriedly behind her sister, "Mama did not tell us you were coming."

The Darcys had come for her sister Mary's wedding last week and had planned to stay until Twelfth Night. Elizabeth had been careful to confirm the Wickhams' absence before she agreed to observe the Christmas season with her family.

"La! Do not fuss Lizzy, Wickham is not with me! I came to surprise you all! Is it not a good joke?"

"Mrs Wickham." Darcy, who had appeared just behind his wife, nodded at Lydia. "Did you travel from Newcastle by yourself?"

"Some of the officers and their wives were going to London. It was not hard to cadge a lift." Lydia replied, casually throwing her bonnet aside for Mr Hill to catch. "Wickham wishes me to stay at home, because I am increasing. He has become a dead bore! I knew Mama would not deny me some fun. I wish to attend the Christmas Assembly!"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Living with the regiment had not improved her sister's manners, nor her vocabulary. Lydia flounced past her, to greet the rest of the family who were gathered in the parlour.

"I am grateful it is only her." Fitzwilliam murmured in her ear. She caressed his face and smiled, enjoying a moment alone with him. "Indeed. I am glad for your sake and for Georgie's. I would not want your Christmas spoiled."

"And if it was? How would you compensate me?" He asked, low and rumbling, a tone that had proved very effective with his wife this last year.

Elizabeth laughed and kissed his nose. "Oh, would you not like to know!"

"Perhaps you can show me?" He replied cheekily, before Mrs Bennet called them both to come back to the parlour.

"Later," she promised.

-x-

Alas, later did indeed bring a reason for Mrs Darcy to console her husband.

The Bennets and Gardiners were introducing Georgiana Darcy to their favourite Christmas games after dinner.

"Let us play Questions or Commands!" cried Lydia, "I shall be the Commander! First I shall ask each of you a question in turn, which you must answer honestly, or if you forfeit, you must accept a command. I like commands for you have do what I tell you to do, and it must be something silly or difficult, like a dare!"

"What fun!" clapped Kitty. "But I should like to be Commander, Lydia! I can think of as many questions as you, and more too, for I am two years older."

Miss Darcy looked dubious.

"Pshaw!" snorted Lydia, "I am a married lady! You are practically an old maid! I am a much better Commander."

Kitty looked mutinous.

"Indeed my dear," came a disdainful voice from the doorway, "you adore commanding." It was Wickham.

Miss Darcy gasped. Mr Darcy scowled. So did Mrs Wickham. Everyone else looked wary, except Mrs Bennet, who squealed, "Oh, dear Wickham, how wonderful that you could come after all!"

Wickham had smiles and charm for everyone, but Elizabeth overheard him hiss at his wife. "How dare you leave without notice!" And his wife's tart reply, "You were so happily engaged with that trollop Mrs Godfrey, I did not think you would miss me!" Further whispers indicated it was his money he had missed, for Lydia had absconded with the rather substantial winnings of a recent card game.

The evening fell rather flat after this, and the Bingleys and Darcys were glad to escape back to Netherfield as soon as was polite. Jane managed to avoid bringing the Wickhams by telling Lydia she could not possibly deprive their mother of her company, when she had been so missed. Lydia, thankfully, accepted this flattery in lieu of a bed.

xXx

**Netherfield House**  
**Christmas 1813**

The next day Miss Bingley and the Hursts arrived, and there followed a week of engagements around Meryton. Wickham plagued Darcy with his smug smile. Miss Bingley was almost as irritating, torn between flattering Darcy and reminding him that Elizabeth had made Wickham his brother. Darcy was sick of them both, and Lizzy had to calm him hourly, though she would quite happily have slapped either. She was heartily regretting leaving Pemberley for this.

-x-

St Stephen's Day brought something of a reprieve, as the Hursts were returning to visit friends London, and Miss Bingley was to go with them. Georgie also took the opportunity to be conveyed to her Aunt Fitzwilliam, along with Mrs Annesley, to celebrate the New Year. She had assured her brother that Wickham no longer had any power over her, but she was more comfortable leaving nevertheless.

That night Bingley, Darcy, Jane, and Lizzy entertained only each other and, with the relief of being amongst trusted friends, let themselves get somewhat disguised.

"Say!" shouted Bingley, "we should play Lydia's game. We never did! What was it? The commands?"

"Questions and Commands! Yes," agreed Lizzy, "I have a question!"

"I prefer your commands," whispered her husband, insinuatingly.

"Shush!" She slapped him, playfully. "It is a question for you! No, for Bingley, because you will not tell me."

Darcy looked a little worried. Bingley sat up eagerly.

"How did you and Fitzwilliam meet?"

Bingley looked at Darcy, unsure, and Darcy shook his head. "No!"

His wife merely laughed at him. "My love, I do not think you understand the game. As much as you enjoy it, _you_ do not make the commands! Charles, I command you to tell me!"

Jane joined in the persuasion, for sherry made her much more forceful. The sisters had discussed the mystery previously, dying to know what could be so bad that even Charles would not tell them.

"Elizabeth, please!" begged Darcy. "It is very embarrassing."

"It cannot be so bad, surely!"

"Darcy, can we not tell them? I do not think it as bad as you believe."

With much badgering from the others, Darcy consented to the tale being told. He stood brooding at a window while Bingley explained their meeting, and Wickham's part in it. Elizabeth was incensed.

"How dare that man! Is there no end to his hatefulness?! I wish I could conmand him to experience the same!"

"I will take that dare." Jane responded, calmly.

"What?" Three faces looked at her, full of surprise.

"I think his behaviour merits some comeuppance. And my brother Darcy deserves revenge. He is too good to take it, but I would act on his behalf."

"Jane!" Elizabeth was admiring, "I am impressed!"

"Jane, you do not need to revenge me." Darcy put in, smiling at his sister in law. "I am humbled that you would wish to."

"Angel, please listen to Darcy. Revenge is not..."

"Charles," said Jane firmly. "I know he has done much worse, and I know we cannot truly compensate for his most wicked deeds. But such petty acts that our brother has had to endure! And to see Wickham's smug face at Longbourn all week, spoiling our Christmas! I cannot bear it! I am determined that I should do something."

Elizabeth beamed at her sister.

-x-

Bingley had pleaded with his wife, to no avail. He knew that Wickham had done many loathsome things, but he could not bear the thought of embarrassing him. Was he not their brother? But his Jane stood firm. As soon as she could determine what herb or medicine to use, she would ply Wickham with it. Lizzy agreed with her sister. Darcy, while too gentlemanly to encourage Jane, could not be brought to interfere against her. Somewhat shamefacedly, Bingley approached his last resort, Lydia. She promised him she would speak to her sisters.

Indeed Lydia did speak to Jane, to congratulate her on developing a sense of humour. Her own humour with her husband had not improved. Not only had he taken back his money, but Lydia has caught him flirting with Harriet Goulding last night, not to mention his indifference to her sickness in the mornings; and that was also his fault! She was most ready to see him suffer a set down.

Jane confided that she did not know what to use to make Wickham ill, but Lydia knew just the thing. She promised that she would dose him before the assembly next week, and ensure he attended.

Bingley was distraught; he did not know how to prevent this! He did not wish to cross his friends, nor his wife, but how could he allow Wickham to be embarrassed? He spent the remainder of the week in an agony of indecision. In the end, he did what his wife told him to: nothing.

xXx

**Meryton, Hertfordshire**  
**January 1814**

Darcy looked up at the Assembly Rooms and bounced on his heels, a wide grin across his face. His wife was much amused. "If only you had been so cheery the first time you attended, we would have been married much sooner!"

"If you had thought of this scheme then, I would have married you on the spot!" he retorted.

She laughed and took his arm. "I hope your good cheer tempts you to dance, dearest. I do not wish to sit out tonight."

"Mrs Darcy," he growled in her ear, "you could tempt me to anything!"

"And frequently do!" she whispered back, knowing he would only be further provoked by her impertinence. His current happiness after the last fortnight was a balm to her soul.

They entered the Assembly Rooms and saw the Bennet party speaking to the Lucases. Lydia waved. Darcy's smile grew larger on seeing them, and Wickham frowned, confused. Jane smirked at Lizzy.

-x-

Near the end of the third set, which Elizabeth was dancing with her brother Bingley, she noticed Wickham stumble. He had begun to look a little pale. She glanced towards her husband, who was standing with her father, and saw that he was grinning back at her.

"Lizzy, do you think Lydia has done it?" Bingley whispered urgently. "He looks very ill!"

"I know she has, for she told me so when we arrived."

Bingley looked anxious.

Sure enough, Wickham rushed from the room as soon as the music stopped, to the chagrin of his partner. Lydia was waiting by the door to direct him to the correct room to relieve himself. Wickham believed the room had a commode; but it was actually empty of anything useful. Lydia turned the key in the lock for good measure.

Elizabeth and Jane hurried to meet Lydia in the hall, their husbands behind them. The ladies laughed to hear Wickham shout for aid, knowing the revellers would not hear over the music and lively stomps of the reel being danced.

Bingley wrung his hands. "Can we not let him out now? Surely he has learnt his lesson!"

Jane looked at him severely (or as severe as Jane got, which would in fact have seemed rather kindly on another face; Darcy's, for example.) "Charles, we have spoken about this. You are not to interfere."

"Yes, dear." replied Charles, dejectedly. This prompted Darcy to laugh loudly, making Mrs Long jump in surprise on her way past to the ladies' retiring room.

She told Mrs Bennet, who came to see what fun was being had without her.

"We are playing a trick on Wickham, Mama. We have locked him in!" Lydia told her.

"And then what shall you do?" asked Mrs Bennet, confused when no one could explain the actual joke. "I shall let him out if you will not tell me," she declared.

"Do!" pleaded Bingley.

"If you wish," said Lydia. "I must claim my partner for the next set."

Jane looked at Darcy, who shrugged. She handed her mother the key.

-x-

Meanwhile, Wickham had been struggling to control his stomach. Though he had initially tried to get out, the pain in his gut had soon taken precedence. He had not been able prevent himself from vomiting, but as he could find no chamber pot (or anything similar) he was now concentrating on holding back anything worse.

When his mother in law burst into the room, his surprise temporarily overcame his control, and he truly embarrassed himself. He could not hide the noise, the smell, nor the stain in his breeches, from Mrs Bennet. She could not hide her disgust! Her exclamations were so loud and so perfectly timed to meet the lull in the music, that half the Assembly rooms rushed into the hall expecting a murder. And thus most of Meryton witnessed Wickham's mortification; and those who did not certainly heard of it (and many increasingly exaggerated versions) in the coming days.

xXx

**Netherfield**  
**Later that night**

"It is a strange feeling," Darcy told his wife, as he helped her undress, "I do not wish to think myself capable of enjoying Wickham's predicament, but I cannot help it."

"I unashamedly enjoyed it!" Elizabeth exclaimed, turning to him. "For all the harm he has caused, he more than deserved it!"

"I never thought I would be happy to see a member of my family humiliated, and gossiped about."

"I never thought Jane would be the cause of it!"

Darcy laughed. "She was wonderful, was she not? And Lydia!"

"I am excessively proud of Jane! And you cannot be ashamed of enjoying the scheme, when it was Jane's idea!" She laughed, then looked pensive. "I do worry for Lydia. What a different idea of marriage she has! What a husband!"

He pulled her into his arms to comfort her, and she rested her head on his chest. "Truly my love, I hope it does bring you some peace to see him get a taste of his own medicine."

"It did." He nuzzled her curls, and then kissed them. "Though it was not the best part. I most enjoyed being defended by my friends."

Her heart tore a little at this earnest admission. She hugged him tighter.

"We will always defend you my love." she told him, before leading him to bed.

-x-

The next morning Darcy stopped by the sickroom, to gleefully inquire how Wickham had enjoyed the assembly. He did not bother to wait for a reply.


End file.
